01-12-2021, 02:32 PM
(This post was last modified: 01-12-2021, 02:35 PM by Borderline.)
despite the overwhelming odds, tomorrow came
Parting with @[Yanhua] had left an unease in me that I couldn’t quite suppress. It’s hard to say what caused the unease. Could it be that I just wanted more time with the stallion now that we’d made up? Or was it that he was walking off on a quest with another mare? Or maybe it was worry for both of their safety? After all, Amarine and I had created a friendship out of the situation, and now her happiness weighed heavily on my thoughts as well. Still, it could have been other things that set my mind to worrying as well.
My mind was heavy with this worry when light turned to dark. It was a very sudden transition, not like that from day to night, as if the sun was there and suddenly gone. My first thought was for Memorie, but thankfully she was close, and when I called, she came running, a touch of fear in her eyes. I tried to keep my own fear reigned in for her sake. I know that she could easily feel the fear if she wanted to, and I didn’t want her to panic as I was beginning to.
“Mama,” she whispered hesitantly, “what is happening?” I could hear the worry in her voice. “I’m not sure, little love,” I say in a hushed voice. I look over her head into the distance. The redwoods offer a lot of protection from the world, but what they didn’t offer was a clear view of what was happening. So nudging the filly softly, I start off for a nearby meadow to see what had happened to the sun, trying my best not to panic when the darkness persisted.
It is lucky I had spent a great deal of my time exploring Taiga and committing everything I could to memory, because it is so dark that it’s hard to see anything. I place each hoof very carefully along the path while Memorie keeps close, often brushing up against my side as if to make sure I was still there. The warmth of her skin keeps me from completely falling apart, but the longer the darkness persisted, the more it built upon the worry and fears that sprang up in my mind. Where was Yanhua now? Were him and Amarine okay? By now, they should have been well on their way up a steep and dangerous mountain. The thought brings a fresh wave of panic.
Once in the meadow, I could look upon the sky. This does not help relieve the fears inside of me. I could see the dim outline of the sun, covered by the moon. Perhaps it was just an eclipse that would end soon?
But it didn’t. Time passes, and the moon moves with the sun across the sky.
Perhaps tomorrow will prove different? The question does little to assuage the worry within me, but as I curl up with Memorie in the meadow to wait it out, I try to push the thoughts from my mind.
Sleep proves hard to come by with so many thoughts inside my head. And when morning comes, the darkness continues to persist, and the panic grows. When the next morning rises in darkness, I am nearly beside myself. A large part of me wants to race into the darkness toward what I believed to be the Mountain. Another part of me wants to race to the Playground where I knew Yanhua and Amarine’s children to be waiting for their return. But still another part of me bids that I stay here to wait for their return. After all, there was little I could do, and I would likely just get lost along the way.
So wait I did. It was an agonizing wait, to be sure, and with each passing day, my worries grew. Poor Memorie must be beside herself, dealing with my emotions, but try as I might, I could not suppress the worries anymore. Day and night (though it’s hard to tell which is which anymore), I would spend wandering the forest, calling out for my mate and his partner. While Memorie slept, I found myself unable to. I grew thin and pale with each passing day. My child worried for me, but there was little she could do for this, and I could sense that this bothered her greatly. She’d always been able to comfort me in the past, but this she could not comfort away. It didn’t help that she worried for her father, Amarine, and the twins as well.
The wait was agonizing. Hopefully they would all return soon, because I don’t know if I could push my body much further. I could hardly eat, and sleep was almost a joke at this point.
While Memorie slept one morning (or was it?), I set out along a path through the forest, as I usually did these days. “Yanhua?” I called, as I always did. My voice had lost its hope, though. It was more out of habit that I called for him anymore, but I continued to do so, nonetheless. In a small clearing, I came to a stop, unable to move any further. I stopped calling. I stopped hoping. Instead, I lowered my head and began to cry. Where were they? Were they okay? I couldn’t stop repeating the questions to myself.
My mind was heavy with this worry when light turned to dark. It was a very sudden transition, not like that from day to night, as if the sun was there and suddenly gone. My first thought was for Memorie, but thankfully she was close, and when I called, she came running, a touch of fear in her eyes. I tried to keep my own fear reigned in for her sake. I know that she could easily feel the fear if she wanted to, and I didn’t want her to panic as I was beginning to.
“Mama,” she whispered hesitantly, “what is happening?” I could hear the worry in her voice. “I’m not sure, little love,” I say in a hushed voice. I look over her head into the distance. The redwoods offer a lot of protection from the world, but what they didn’t offer was a clear view of what was happening. So nudging the filly softly, I start off for a nearby meadow to see what had happened to the sun, trying my best not to panic when the darkness persisted.
It is lucky I had spent a great deal of my time exploring Taiga and committing everything I could to memory, because it is so dark that it’s hard to see anything. I place each hoof very carefully along the path while Memorie keeps close, often brushing up against my side as if to make sure I was still there. The warmth of her skin keeps me from completely falling apart, but the longer the darkness persisted, the more it built upon the worry and fears that sprang up in my mind. Where was Yanhua now? Were him and Amarine okay? By now, they should have been well on their way up a steep and dangerous mountain. The thought brings a fresh wave of panic.
Once in the meadow, I could look upon the sky. This does not help relieve the fears inside of me. I could see the dim outline of the sun, covered by the moon. Perhaps it was just an eclipse that would end soon?
But it didn’t. Time passes, and the moon moves with the sun across the sky.
Perhaps tomorrow will prove different? The question does little to assuage the worry within me, but as I curl up with Memorie in the meadow to wait it out, I try to push the thoughts from my mind.
Sleep proves hard to come by with so many thoughts inside my head. And when morning comes, the darkness continues to persist, and the panic grows. When the next morning rises in darkness, I am nearly beside myself. A large part of me wants to race into the darkness toward what I believed to be the Mountain. Another part of me wants to race to the Playground where I knew Yanhua and Amarine’s children to be waiting for their return. But still another part of me bids that I stay here to wait for their return. After all, there was little I could do, and I would likely just get lost along the way.
So wait I did. It was an agonizing wait, to be sure, and with each passing day, my worries grew. Poor Memorie must be beside herself, dealing with my emotions, but try as I might, I could not suppress the worries anymore. Day and night (though it’s hard to tell which is which anymore), I would spend wandering the forest, calling out for my mate and his partner. While Memorie slept, I found myself unable to. I grew thin and pale with each passing day. My child worried for me, but there was little she could do for this, and I could sense that this bothered her greatly. She’d always been able to comfort me in the past, but this she could not comfort away. It didn’t help that she worried for her father, Amarine, and the twins as well.
The wait was agonizing. Hopefully they would all return soon, because I don’t know if I could push my body much further. I could hardly eat, and sleep was almost a joke at this point.
While Memorie slept one morning (or was it?), I set out along a path through the forest, as I usually did these days. “Yanhua?” I called, as I always did. My voice had lost its hope, though. It was more out of habit that I called for him anymore, but I continued to do so, nonetheless. In a small clearing, I came to a stop, unable to move any further. I stopped calling. I stopped hoping. Instead, I lowered my head and began to cry. Where were they? Were they okay? I couldn’t stop repeating the questions to myself.
borderline
